


Mani In Fede

by ruff_ethereal



Category: Descendants (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Marriage Proposal, Mother-Daughter Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-28 16:13:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5097029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruff_ethereal/pseuds/ruff_ethereal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hands Joined In Faith"</p><p>Mal finds herself forced to suck up to her mother to buy an engagement ring for Evie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mani In Fede

**Author's Note:**

> For the Anon that wanted Mal ring-shopping with Maleficent, and her being supportive about her relationship with Evie.
> 
> It's not the motherly feels you may have been expecting but Maleficent doesn't strike me as THAT kind of supportive.
> 
> Also, special mention to eviewolf, you're going to probably recognize and delight in something I picked up on my research and used here.

Six years ago, she left this house, lugging a bag filled with her most important belongings, vowing never to come back ever again, and never looking back once as she climbed into Jay's beat-up pick-up truck and drove away.

Now, she found herself standing at the front of its gates once more. Mal wished it was to personally confirm a rumour that her mother had died in her sleep, or to watch it get demolished, or to see the windows shut and the curtains thrown over them as she hid from the paparazzi and the press desperate to interview her or catch a glimpse of her after some career-destroying scandal.

However, like so many parts of her life, she just wasn't that lucky.

Mal prayed that she wasn't home, that sometime between then and now, her mother's schedule had changed and Wednesday's stopped being her “off day, no questions asked, to be ruined only by earth-moving emergencies” or that one such emergency had happened in her vast empire. Though knowing that it had only grown even _larger_ in the intervening years ,and her mother's tendency to delegate all but the highest priority concerns to trusted lackeys and associates, it wasn't likely, to say the least.

She sighed, rang the doorbell, and waited.

Of course she knew that she was the one at the door. There was a security camera right above the gates; she had been carded, photographed, and interviewed at the entrance to her uber-exclusive village; and she was pretty sure that through her infamous network of spies and people who had a tendency to know what was going on anywhere in the entire world, she knew that Mal was coming home to ask a favour long before she did herself—the taxi company she had hired to take her there had probably called up one of her lackeys, and she had been personally tracking her via GPS the entire time.

Her mother's taste in servants had barely changed—that is to say, there were still the incredibly long-lived, white-haired, wrinkly and homely faced servants who were oftentimes older than the houses they were serving, and whose ability to perform all manner of menial and administrative tasks with glee, efficiency, and not suddenly dropping down dead perpetually perplexed Mal.

And of course she would send out the only of them one that she had liked:

“Fred.” Mal said, unable to stop the smile spreading on her face.

Frederica smiled back and curtsied. “Lady Bertha.” She said.

She was the only person in the world who could call her that without Mal instantly disliking them, doing some form of violence towards, or holding a serious grudge on. And that she was reminded that Fred had earned that right made it physically impossible to be angry, assertive, or stoic, exactly the opposite of what she wanted and needed to be.

Her mother had not let six years of absence dull her skills in manipulation, obviously.

Fred led her to a sunny, friendly parlour, where many a guest had been entertained; many more business associates had been subtly manipulated, covertly “coaxed and convinced,” or vaguely threatened; and Mal had spent many a day suffering a mix of boredom and resentment as she had to be forced in a dress and be nice to people that were only politely interested in her, and often smelled funny.

The antique furniture was exactly as she remembered it: expertly crafted oak wood with floral designs; lovingly polished and maintained brass handles, fittings, and crowning; beautifully upholstered furniture that may have been done up just for this visit—her mother couldn't afford to have anything less than perfect, and money was rarely an issue.

Her mother herself had barely changed. Maybe there was a line that the treatments couldn't get, maybe she was slightly rounder than once was six years ago, but her eyes still glowed with that gleam of intelligence and danger, her smile still glinted ominously, and her outward aura was still incredibly friendly, amiable, and warm, though the inside was anything but.

“Mal, darling!” She said as she got up. “What a treat to have you drop by for a visit! How have you been?” She gushed as she strode across the room, wrapped her arms around Mal, and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

Mal refused the urge to cringe, or shoot her a sarcastic snap back—she needed her mother right now, she knew it very well, and she wasn't about to pass up on the opportunity to milk it for everything it was worth. That didn't mean she needed to fall into the polite small talk trap, however.

“I need you to help me buy an engagement ring for Evie.” Mal said.

Her mother pulled away and smiled. “How wonderful to hear! You know, the press had such a conniption when you broke up with that very nice boy Ben, but I'm happy to hear you're _finally_ committing! Shame about her mother, but of course, Evie's taking _our_ name when you sign the papers, isn't she?” She looked at Mal expectantly.

Mal sighed internally. “Yes.”

Which was true. She only wished “What will be most likely to get my mom to be fine with us getting married?” wasn't such a huge deciding factor.

“Perfect!” Her mother purred as she pulled out her phone. “I'll alert the press right away, arrange for transportation and alert all the boutiques, and we can be off and spending the rest of today shopping for the perfect engagement ring!”

Mal forced herself to smile and nod.

“Have you thought of where exactly you're going to propose?” Her mother said as she sent out all the appropriate texts to delegate all the tasks she just said. “I can have a professional photographer planted wherever you wish, and don't mind whatever they say about their waiting lists being however long—you know a table is going to miraculously open up if _I_ wish it.”

Mal quietly cringed. “I was planning to propose to her in private. You know, just the two of us, _alone.”_

Her mother rolled her eyes. “You're wasting a fantastic opportunity for some very good photo-ops, you know that, but have it your way! I'll just arrange a press conference, but it's never as good as having pictures of the actual proposal.”

Mal smiled, enjoying her victory. It was going to have to tide her for all the other indignities and losses she was going to have to suffer today.

* * *

They were followed by a security team and a small media squad the whole way, three cars and a van cruising through the streets of the city, parting traffic down the middle, getting awed stares, and blissfully ignoring every rule of the road and right of way with everyone looking the other way or letting the transgression pass.

Every single store was completely empty save for the staff when they got there, and the ones that were on duty were usually the managers and a handful of choice employees, with wide grins of perfect, pearly white teeth; meticulously ironed, polished, and groomed uniforms and outfits; and an extensively practiced speeches that were painstakingly pored over and rewritten over who-knows-how long and delivered to sound almost entirely off the cuff.

Her mother was having a grand old time, parading around like a queen—she was practically almost one, after all—all smiles, happy waves, and casual gestures as the staff scurried to serve her every request, bringing up jewels, rings, and the very best of their stock. Sage and wise looking jewelers gave her their very best assessments; the displays were as breathtaking and luxurious as they could get; and the staff were doing their very best to butter her up short of bribing her with favours—cash, she already had more than enough of.

Pretty much every single ring in every single store had to pass her judgment before Mal could even see it, they were being presented and dismissed that fast. It was a glittery, shiny blur of precious metals and finely cut diamonds, with one occasionally stopping long enough for Mal to look at it and figure out it just wasn't the right one, mostly because it was just so _stupidly_ expensive.

All the while, her mother gleefully answered every polite inquiry with the same amount of gusto and enthusiasm.

“Why yes, my daughter is getting married—to another woman, mind you! Yes, yes, times are changing, but you know me, I'm not about to stubbornly stick to old ideas that are outdated, obsolete, or outright dangerous at the worst!”

“Oh, yes, it _has_ been six years, but what is that for mother and daughter? Now my darling has returned to me, and what better occasion than when she needs _my_ help in getting an engagement ring for her soon to be fiancee and wife?”

“Money is no object, simply bring out the rings! After all, _I'm_ paying.”

And so on.

They spent hours whisking away from store to store, dashing numerous hopes, testing the limits of how much employees were willing to work for their salaries, and letting Mal experience an entirely new depth of suffering and torture she had never known until that day. If the ring hadn't passed her mother's standards, it didn't pass Mal's; every single one of them were starting to look exactly the same, yet she never found the one that just jumped out to her and said it was the perfect ring.

Then, passing by a less luxurious street on the way to the much more luxurious district across it, Mal saw it in a window display.

She brought the whole posse of security and media to a screeching, tumbling halt when she rushed inside that store. The few customers inside and the staff were quite bewildered and surprised to see Mal rushing in, and more so when the burly guards in their finely tailored suits and earpieces and the media personnel with their cameras and microphones squeezed in through the entrance after her.

She rushed up to the main counter, to an aged man that seemed to be debating whether or not it was worth dealing with her. Before he could get out a single word, she pointed to the modest display set up in the window and said, “How much is the ring with the crown and heart-shaped ruby in it?”

The man brightened up. “Ah, the Claddagh ring, you mean?”

“Yes, that—how much is it?”

“Hold on one second!” Her mother said as she finally forced her way through the tight shop space and beside Mal. “What ring are we talking about, exactly?”

The man walked over to the counter and brought it back. Up close, it seemed even more beautiful and perfect, little silver hands holding the heart with the little crown above it. If Mal had any doubts that if it was the ring she wanted, they were erased in that moment.

Her mother balked. “You're kidding me, right?”

“It's perfect...” Mal mumbled as she stared at it.

“The Claddagh's a traditional Irish ring,” the man explained, “you see, the hands represent friendship, the crown loyalty, and of course, the heart means love—all the good things any relationship is built on.” He smiled.

Her mother rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes, quite a lot of tradition, history, and culture in it, but _look at it,_ it's not even a diamond!”

“A ruby represents passion, love, and courage, madam.” The man said, unfazed.

“I'll take it.” Mal said, eyes still on the ring.

Her mother scowled at her. “Are you **sure** about this? This isn't just any ring that she can take off and exchange with others as the mood suits her, this is going to be a ring she's going to have for the rest of her life, a ring she's going to be showing off to all of your friends and her family, a ring that the public is going to know she has, that's going to show up in all the photos, the videos, and the stories!”

“Yes.” Mal said.

Her mother sighed. “Whatever happened to a nice, big diamond?” She asked herself as she pulled out her checkbook. “Impressive in appearance, always a crowd pleaser, and makes a handy addition to a backhanded slap in a pinch. Ah well, kids will be kids: who am I making the check to and for how much?”

Within a few minutes, Mal was back in the car, admiring the ring in its new box, a simple purple construct without the slightest bit of flair to make the silver and ruby ring all the more stunning.

Her mother pushed the lid back over it. “You can admire it all you want when you've put it on Evie's finger, darling—keeping a box like that open just to look at it is just asking for disaster.”

Mal frowned at her, but put the box into her jacket pocket for safe keeping.

Her mother smiled at her and placed her hand on the back of Mal's. “You two are going to so beautiful once you get up at the altar.” She said wistfully. “And I am _expecting_ the wedding will be the talk of the entire globe to make up for this ring.”

Mal found herself smiling back. “So long as you're paying for it.”

* * *

“On the left hand, with the point of the heart towards her fingertips—that means she's engaged.” The man at the store had told Mal. “If it's on her right, you better watch out: that means she's single and may be looking for love—and if you pointed it to her wrist, that means she's in a relationship, at least. And once you get married, you turn the point of the heart towards her wrist—that means you're married.”

“Left, heart point to fingertips, left, heart point to fingertips, left, heart point to fingertips...” Mal repeated to herself as she waited by the front door of their apartment, the ring in her jacket pocket.

She didn't know why she was so nervous. It wasn't like Evie was going to say no. And if she did, she wouldn't turn down the ring, a perfect companion to her necklace. She really had no reason fidget and break out in a cold sweat, to be patting her pocket every so often to check that the ring was there, to constantly debate and rewrite her speech in her head, even though it was just one line.

And yet here she was doing just that.

Mal debated proposing at a different night. Maybe a different week. Month? What was a year? Evie had proven she could wait, couldn't she?

Then the familiar “beep-beep!” of their apartment door sounded, the door opened, and in walked Evie, looking stunning as usual even as she looked completely, absolutely haggard and run down by her day. She smiled as she saw Mal, Mal smiled back.

“Hey Evie!” Mal said. “How was work?”

Evie chuckled and shook her head. _“Really_ bad. There was an explosion in the lab so work had to be postponed for several hours, then everything in my section smelled like cinnamon, and _then_ we found out all my samples had been contaminated so now we're going to have to do all my research from scratch.

“Not exactly a fun time, I'll tell you that.” She smiled hopefully. So, what have you been up to?”

Mal got down on one knee and took out the box. Evie blinked, stared, until finally, her jaw dropped.

Mal smiled as she pulled open the box and showed off the ring inside. The smile grew wider as she saw Evie's hands fly up to her mouth as she gasped and gawked at it.

“Evie, will you marry me?” Mal said.

Evie paused for all of a second. “Uh, duh?!” She quickly scooped Mal back up to her feet, hugging her and raining kisses on her all the while. Mal laughed and struggled to keep the arm holding the ring steady, lest it fall out.

Eventually Evie calmed down enough for Mal to slip the ring onto her finger. “Left hand, point of the heart to the fingertips—it means you're engaged.” She explained. “You turn it to your wrist once we're married.”

Evie blinked back tears as she brought her ring up to her face. “Oh, Mal, it's so _beautiful_. And the design couldn't be more perfect, too!”

“The hands mean friendship, the crown loyalty, and the heart, well, love.” Mal explained.

“And it's a ruby, too: passion and courage.” Evie continued. She brought her hand down and hugged Mal again. “Oh, M, it's perfect!” She planted a kiss on her cheek.

Mal chuckled as she hugged her back. “Hey, you know I don't half-ass anything with you if I can help it.”

“I'm not gonna have to worry about any angry jewelery store owners storming up to me, am I?” Evie joked as she pulled away.

“Yeah, no, Jay didn't help me get you that this time, and it's all paid for in full—I even got the receipt.”

Evie paused. “ _Wow,_ this must have cost you a _lot_ of commissions for a _really_ long time.”

“Actually, I got a little help from someone else.”

Evie blinked. “You did not.”

Mal shrugged, and smiled. “It was worth it for just this moment. And besides: it's not like you don't like being in the spotlight, and you've never been dreaming of a massive fairy tale wedding.”

The tears returned, and this time, Evie didn't blink them back. “Oh, Mal!” She cried before she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around Mal again, before she kissed her again, only pulling away when the both of their lungs were starting to burn for air.

Evie sniffed, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I love you, Mal.”

Mal smiled and wiped away her tears. “I love you too, Evie. C'mon, let's go plan our outfits for the press-con my mom's holding...”

“Right behind you!” Evie said as she headed off to their bedroom. “I know just the dress that'll go perfectly with this ring!”

“Why am I not surprised?” Mal replied as she followed after her.

She had only just begun to pay for that ring, she knew, but if it meant seeing Evie this happy, it was _more_ than worth it.


End file.
